Without the Pedestal
by Lo.Taylor
Summary: They were canonized in their deaths, remembered as perfect by their children, but their lives weren't perfect - not even close- but there is nothing either one would have changed. Story of Mr. and Mrs. Curtis: their struggles and triumphs.


**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters.**

_"__Congratulations! It's a boy!" The doctor put the baby into my arms as tears flooded down my face. Holding that precious bundle in my arms told me that every choice I made leading up to this moment hadn't been a mistake, as my mother accused, but instead a road – albeit a rocky one – leading to this blessing of all blessings: my child. _

_I momentarily broke the trance my son held on me, to look to my husband. He was leaning over the hospital bed wearing the biggest smile I'd ever seen on him. As he looked over to me I leaned up to kiss him; in this moment my life was perfect. I wished I could bottle this feeling, this moment to take home. I would spray some on the overdue bills which we had no money to pay. I would use it to make the one-bedroom apartment we had, more bearable for my husband and newborn child to live. I would pack it in my husband's lunch to get him through another long day at a job he hated, but only if he'd bring it back home to me at the day's end. I, too, would need it while working. Not to think about that now, though._

_"__What's his name," my husband whispered staring back into our son's eyes._

_I quickly replayed the last year of my life over in my head and came to a conclusion. "Darrel Shaynne Curtis."_

_"__Junior," I added when he just stared at me. _

_His smile widened. _

Now, as I tuck in an older Darry, I remember the day he was born, six years ago. Little did I know then, but the moment of Darry's birth _would_ get me through all the rough times. It wasn't in a tangible bottle but it was etched into my mind for me to remember every day of my life, as were the births of my other two children: Sodapop and Ponyboy.

Baby Darry, though, was the beginning of it all.

"_Mama, we got something to tell you." I sat nervously on the couch beside Darrel, the boy I'd been going steady with. He was nervous too but he squeezed my hand in encouragement and looked my mother in the eye._

I had never seen my mother as mad as the moment I told her I was pregnant. She was a real fuddy-duddy woman and expected me to be prim and proper all the time. Playing backseat bingo at the passion pit wasn't exactly an ideal situation for one of her daughters – of course the fact I was only seventeen and still in high school didn't help the situation either.

I tried to tell her that getting married and having babies is just what women do. She should be happy for me! Yeah, that didn't work. She wanted to send me away and give the baby up, but I wouldn't do that. Really, it was Darrel who wouldn't give up the baby and instead, convinced me that we should start our own family. At times I resented him for it; raising a baby with nothing to our name, was no easy thing to do.

We moved down to Tulsa to live with Darrel's older brother, though. He was the only family Darrel had left after his father got killed in the war and his mother died a couple years after. I really didn't have a problem traveling all the way to Oklahoma to live – especially since Joseph, Darrel's brother, was letting us live rent-free until we got on our feet – because I hadn't talked to my own mother since telling her the good news.

It wasn't easy, but we got through it.

"Are you okay," Darrel asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

I nodded at him before kissing Darry on the forehead and then turning to Soda's bed. 

_Soda sleeping is God's greatest blessing to me_, I thought while looking over to my middle child. I winced at my uncouth – although true – thought and went to kiss my rambunctious son in apology. The blankets were wrapped around his ankles so I untangled them to pull up to his chin.

On my way through the house, I picked up a few stray articles of clothing and dumped them in a basket. I stopped in the kitchen to finish up the dishes and wipe the counters. I wish I could say that I like doing housework, but I don't. _Living _with four boys is a hard feat, not to mention cleaning up after them.

I am good at housework, very efficient. That's probably because cooking and cleaning have pretty much been my full time job since I was a little kid. There was awhile during the war where I held a part-time job but once the veterans returned home, the workplace wasn't suitable for women yet again.

It's really a moot point anyway, with three children – four, if I'm counting a husband who acts more like a child than an adult – needing care for at home, I wouldn't be able to work. I enjoy being home with my children during the day. I love them to no end. That being said, I have a headache that is becoming a permanent fixation, so a few hours of the day spent out of the house would be a welcome treat.

XXX

The alarm clock buzzed too early, as always. I had been up at two hour intervals all through the night with my newborn and wasn't anywhere close to feeling rested. Nevertheless, I pulled myself out of bed before the alarm woke my sleeping husband.

I looked out the window into the blackness of early morning while I filled the coffee pot with water and put it on the stove. After a quick shower, I pulled the pot off the stove and went to wake my boys.

"Darrel, it's time to get up," I whispered into his ear while rubbing circles on his back. "Hun, come on. It's morning."

He finally let out a sigh and pulled off the covers but still didn't get out of bed. I gave a kiss to his cheek before turning on the light and leaving the room. He groaned at the light from the bare bulb stuck in the middle of the ceiling but, as I walked to my sons' room, I heard the squeak of the bed which signaled him getting up.

I knelt down at his bed to whisper, "Darry, baby, time to wake up," while lightly rubbing his arm. Waking up Darry was quite a task. At six years old, he has already developed a stubborn streak not even a mule couldn't break. I eventually got him to the table and served breakfast to him and my husband.

"Darry, sit up straight. I know it's early but you have to eat or you'll be late for school." When he didn't lift his head from the table, I lifted it for him. "Eat," I ordered sternly holding his jaw to my face.

As much as I disliked having to scold my boys, I did so often. Darrel got to be the good cop while I was the one who punished and, at times, yelled. I guess it worked out that way though. I admit, I have a little bit of a temper sometimes and may have, on occasion taken it out on my boys. I like to think I'm tough but fair while my husband is, flat out, a push-over. He wasn't always that way though. In fact, it was Darrel's stubbornness and persistence that got him circled to me.

___"You look lost," a deep voice stated as I stared, overwhelmed into the hallway of my new school. I only nodded, being somewhat hypnotized by the seemingly hundreds of people swerving through one another while heading to their classes. _

___He stepped in front of me, blocking my view and getting my attention. "I'm Darrel." He held his hand out for me to shake. _

___The young man before me was about a foot taller than me. He had long brown hair and a pair of eyes in the same shade. His most distinguishing feature was his grin, which managed to be comforting and exciting at the same time. _

___"And you are Ms. …," he prompted when I hadn't so much as shook his hand._

___I cleared my throat before replying in a soft voice, "Elizabeth." _

___"It's very nice to meet you, Ms. Elizabeth. Are you new here? Let me show you to your class." He reached for my books but my brain decided to start working and I pulled them back to my chest and took a small step back._

___"No thank you, Darrel. I'll manage my own." I smiled politely and began to walk down the hall._

___"A Dolly, such as you shouldn't be walking by her lonesome."_

___He was good. I'll give him that. _

___By the grace of God, I spotted a group of girls I knew. "I'm actually meeting my friends. They're right over there." _

___"Well then, Ms. Elizabeth, I'll see you around," he said as we stopped at the circle of girls. I nodded, a sweet smile on my face._

___"Elizabeth," Mary screeched when Darrel was out of earshot, "what were you doing talking to Darrel Curtis? He is the cutest guy on the football team!"_

___"Look at him gammin away," another girl said in a dreamy voice._

___ I already was. _

* * *

40's slang (when Elizabeth and Darrel were growing up):

Fuddy-duddy: old-fashioned person

Backseat bingo: necking in a car

Passion pit: the drive-in

gammin: strutting

circled: married

I would really like to get reviews and concrit for this!

I've put a lot of time into this - especially research - and I want to know if I should continue or scrap it and try again. I was debating on whether to start at the conception of Darry and tell the story as things are happening or start it from here and tell the past through flashbacks. Is the story moving along too slow because of all the flashbacks? Should I do it the other way instead?

Any help would be great! Thanks.


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